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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538709">Catching My Breath (Staring Out An Open Window Catching My Death)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamh_reads/pseuds/niamh_reads'>niamh_reads</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Evermore-inspired oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandonment Issues, Anxiety, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Being Lost, Evermore - Freeform, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Panic Attacks, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Songfic, rooftop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:34:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,539</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamh_reads/pseuds/niamh_reads</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He replayed all of the events leading up to Sirius' leaving in his mind. What did he do? Was there something along the way, somewhere, that he missed? When had they stopped being brothers? When had Sirius stopped confiding in him, stopped talking to him, even about arbitrary things? Regulus couldn’t trace it back to its very beginnings and that frustrated the boy, because that means he missed it. He wasn’t paying attention. And then that means that it’s his own fault. Someone whose entire survival was based off of paying attention, of constantly observing the people around him so that he could never be taken by surprise. And he missed losing his own brother.<br/>If that’s not his fault, then whose is it? </p><p>Regulus sits on a roof and thinks about losing his brother. Inspired by Evermore by Taylor Swift.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Regulus Black &amp; Black Family, Regulus Black &amp; Sirius Black, Sirius Black &amp; Black Family, Sirius Black &amp; Walburga Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Evermore-inspired oneshots [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Catching My Breath (Staring Out An Open Window Catching My Death)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gray November<br/>
I've been down since July<br/>
Motion capture<br/>
Put me in a bad light</p><p>I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone<br/>
Trying to find the one where I went wrong<br/>
Writing letters<br/>
Addressed to the fire</p><p>And I was catching my breath<br/>
Staring out an open window<br/>
Catching my death<br/>
And I couldn't be sure<br/>
I had a feeling so peculiar<br/>
That this pain would be for<br/>
Evermore</p><p>Hey December<br/>
Guess I'm feeling unmoored<br/>
Can't remember<br/>
What I used to fight for</p><p>I rewind the tape but all it does is pause<br/>
On the very moment all was lost<br/>
Sending signals<br/>
To be double crossed</p><p>And I was catching my breath<br/>
Barefoot in the wildest winter<br/>
Catching my death<br/>
And I couldn't be sure<br/>
I had a feeling so peculiar<br/>
That this pain would be for<br/>
Evermore<br/>
(Evermore)</p><p>Can't not think of all the cost<br/>
And the things that will be lost<br/>
Oh, can we just get a pause?<br/>
To be certain we'll be tall again<br/>
Whether weather be the frost<br/>
Or the violence of the dog days<br/>
I'm on waves, out being tossed<br/>
Is there a line that I could just go cross?</p><p>And when I was shipwrecked (Can't think of all the cost)<br/>
I thought of you (All the things that will be lost now)<br/>
In the cracks of light (Can we just get a pause?)<br/>
I dreamed of you (To be certain we'll be tall again)<br/>
(If you think of all the costs)<br/>
It was real enough (Whether weather be the frost)<br/>
To get me through (Or the violence of the dog days)<br/>
(Out on waves being tossed)<br/>
I swear (Is there a line that we could just go cross?)<br/>
You were there</p><p>And I was catching my breath<br/>
Floors of a cabin creaking under my step<br/>
And I couldn't be sure<br/>
I had a feeling so peculiar<br/>
This pain wouldn't be for<br/>
Evermore<br/>
Evermore<br/>
Evermore<br/>
This pain wouldn't be for evermore<br/>
Evermore </p><p>Cold December air cut his lungs, as if every oxygen molecule were sharp-edged. The temperatures had finally dipped below freezing, and frost was laying siege to the slates, forcing black to succumb to icy white. And yet here Regulus was, on the roof of number 12 Grimmauld Place in the depths of winter, because he couldn’t breathe. Staring across rooftops, the youngest Black fought to fill his mind’s eye with the latest versions of human shelter. </p><p>From caves to manors, Regulus mused. Or prisons, as someone might call them. </p><p>With that bitter stab, Regulus’ endeavour to keep his thoughts off his brother failed. His mind was once again filled with images of that night, images which, he was sure, would be burned into his memory until the day he died. Sirius’ stumble as he ran towards the door. Sirius’ face when Regulus called out to him, lined with panic. He was like an injured animal, and his jerky, defensive movements were flashing red lights to illuminate the way his eyes screamed one thing: survival. His chest heaved, whole torso rising and falling as he took one more look at Regulus, one more look at their wretched home, and left. And when his big brother turned his back, Regulus could still see the soaring and crashing. </p><p>Soaring and crashing. Soaring and crashing. His own chest was soaring and crashing. Regulus couldn’t breathe again.</p><p>Sitting there, heaving in quantities of air but doing no good with any of it. This was how Regulus often found himself these days. Like there were elastic bands wrapped around his rib cage, and every so often they would tighten and pull his whole chest in on itself so that nothing could get in or out. The air in his lungs would stagnate, going stale in the alveoli until Regulus dragged in the first shallow breaths through his teeth and increasing in pace until his rib cage was soaring and crashing again and he was stumbling to the nearest open window, like Sirius was stumbling through the hallway, and he sat there catching his breath. It started in July. </p><p>But that’s not really true.</p><p>It had gotten worse since July, but Regulus has had moments of panic like these since he was a child of seven, and mother threatened to have Kreacher’s head cut off for being too slow when bringing dinner to the dining room. Regulus believed her, as it wasn’t unrealistic, and promptly began to struggle for breath. Fear had swept over him, blocking out all other thought except Kreacher is going to die over and over until Sirius’ unnerved whisperings of his name broke through the haze. Walburga had not noticed. She was still shouting at Kreacher. </p><p>Since then, Regulus had been so afflicted at various times throughout his childhood. Something would give him a fright, or he would work himself up to it, and suddenly he would be standing at Sirius’ bedroom door. It would only take one look at his little brother, struggling to breathe and his eyes filled with tears that wouldn’t shed only because Regulus had them open so wide, and Sirius would immediately begin talking. The weather, the quidditch, the most recent cursed cabinet he had explored, all of it was fair game because it didn’t matter what he was talking about only that he was talking and Regulus had something to focus on, Regulus wasn’t alone.</p><p>In July, Regulus was left alone. Maybe that’s why it was coming back with a vigour. It wasn’t because he didn’t have Sirius anymore, it was because he didn’t have anybody. He tried to comfort himself with that thought once, and then decided that it actually didn’t hurt any less. He didn’t bother trying to comfort himself anymore.</p><p>He replayed all of the events leading up to that in his mind. What did he do? Was there something along the way, somewhere, that he missed? When had they stopped being brothers? When had Sirius stopped confiding in him, stopped talking to him, even about arbitrary things? Regulus couldn’t trace it back to its very beginnings and that frustrated the boy, because that means he missed it. He wasn’t paying attention. And then that means that it’s his own fault. Someone whose entire survival was based off of paying attention, of constantly observing the people around him so that he could never be taken by surprise. And he missed losing his own brother. </p><p>If that’s not his fault, then whose is it? It had to be his fault. Sirius would never have left him otherwise. He doesn’t argue with this thought anymore either. </p><p>Sitting there, barefoot and catching his death on the frost-capped roof of no.12 Grimmauld Place, Regulus wishes his brother would come home. He wishes so badly that his brother would step out of the fireplace on Christmas day, bearing gifts and a wide smile just for Regulus. The fervour of his wish for Sirius’ return rivals the grief at his leaving. Both feel like burning, only one is a burning that builds, and the other is a burning that erodes away at him, leaving a hole that feels like it gets bigger every minute. </p><p>He even invited him. He wrote him a letter, and he sent this one. </p><p>Come home for Christmas, Sirius. Please.</p><p>It was returned unopened, and then it joined the other letters he had penned and delivered to the flames of the stove. </p><p>Sirius took everything when he left. Every bit of certainty, everything Regulus ever felt sure of went out the door with his brother. He had never been happy in his home; how could he have been? He always feared the next hex from his mother. He had no relationship to speak of with his father. And while he wasn’t happy, he didn’t need to be. He was comfortable. Grimmauld Place was his home and the Blacks were his family. He made his peace with that<br/>
.<br/>
But suddenly there was a gaping hole where his brother should have been, and the Blacks without Sirius weren’t his family. Everything had changed. Regulus was no longer in his comfortable, familiar position as little brother, second son. Without Sirius there, Regulus was adrift and he couldn’t find anything to hold onto. Nothing anchored him anymore, he was simply navigating unchartered territory alone in an unfamiliar dingy boat and he didn’t know where any of the life jackets were kept.<br/>
Regulus listened to his parents’ pureblood rhetoric back when they were a family. That was his family’s rhetoric. It was Black policy. It was another thing that escaped through the open door. Regulus didn’t care about pureblood status anymore. He didn’t much care about anything his parents had to say. They weren’t a family anymore and that was all there was to it.</p><p>So he had nothing. </p><p>No cause. No family. No Sirius. </p><p>The night was getting colder, and the hole inside Regulus was definitely getting bigger. He thinks it might take all of him soon. But that’s okay. Because once he disappears into it, once Regulus is gone, he won’t feel lost. </p><p>The pain won’t be for evermore. He saw his breath rise in a grey wisp on the air. </p><p>Because he won’t be around for long enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello.<br/>It is Niamh, back at 1am, when i SHOULD by rights be sleeping. And if I'm gonna lose sleep to writing, I should at least write my ASSIGNMENTS.</p><p>but no. Angsty Regulus.<br/>what do?</p><p>I hope you enjoy, please leave a comment if so. I can't see my boyfriend or friends because of another lockdown and when I tell you I am starved for attention I am FAMISHED. So do comment :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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